The Roads We Choose
by Hragon
Summary: Jane, ignoring her dream of becoming a Trainer, studies to become a Professor to fulfill her parents’ wishes. But when she embarks on a quest to recover the lab's stolen information, she will find that the roads she chooses are not set in stone. Redone.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Pokemon series, or any of its content.**

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Young, ten-year old Jane stood near a crowd in her bustling, Floaroma Town. She sneezed and ran her finger across her nose, sniffling, and glared at the surrounding flowers, hating both them and her allergies.

Mothers and fathers were hugging and kissing their children good-bye. The townspeople, as the town was small enough for everyone to know everyone, were also giving their own farewell gifts to the departing ten-year olds. Today was the day that they would depart on their journeys. Those that already had Pokemon of their own, whether they be gifts or family pets, would be off to fulfill their dreams, and those who did not would be going to Professor Rowan for their first partners.

But not Jane.

Several of the boys and girls were chattering excitedly about the Pokemon they would catch. Jane stood by, on the outskirts of the crowd, with her arms crossed, simply looking out into the distance. She was afraid that if she got too involved with the farewell, she would be consumed with painful feelings. Painful feelings regarding not only losing all of her friends her age that she'd grown up with, but the painful feelings regarding the fact that she would never be fortunate enough to go on a Trainer's journey herself. In her hand she clutched a thick, leather-bound book that she could read to distract herself should the feelings get too out of hand.

One of the girls, Maddie, saw her standing there, all alone. They came over and gave her a sad smile. "Are you sure you can't come, Jane?"

"Yes," Jane said icily.

The young girl looked a bit taken aback at her tone. "Why?"

Jane clutched the book tighter as her parents' words flowed through her. "Because my parents think I should be a professor. They say that a Trainer is doomed from the start. Only ignorant people become Trainers. They say there's no stable way to get food or money or supplies or nothin', and there's no way a ten-year old could raise Pokemon out in the wild on their own. They say there's no way to make a living like that. They say that anyone who tries is a failure, a-and by being a professor, I'll be much more successful in life."

Maddie looked quite offended. Her eyes got brighter as tears welled up. "Do you think that I'm a failure for being a Trainer?"

Jane wasn't sure; her parents had pressed that fact onto her, but it didn't seem right. "Well, my parents say so," she said, which was the truth, but only when it left her mouth did she realize that it didn't sound the way she'd wanted. "Maddie, I'm sorry!" she cried as the other girl turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Jane felt the painful feeling swell up inside of her. Quickly, she opened her book and began to read. With something for her mind to focus on, the feeling died down quickly until she again felt nothing inside of her. Nothing at all.

She closed the book.

"Jane? Jane Anderson, get back here!"

Jane turned around. Her mother was standing on the porch of the house with her little, three-year old sister, Jackie. She ran up to the house.

Her mother looked at the crowd and sighed. "Ah, those poor children. What irresponsible parents. Come on, sweetie. _You're_ going to study to be a successful professor. I wonder if we could apprentice you to someone, when you get older . . ." Her mother retreated inside, still mumbling about all the different things that they could do.

Jane followed, glancing over her shoulder one more time. She supposed that she owed it to her parents to have saved her from a doomed fate. She would have gladly walked into the same trap that the other children were wandering into just now. Being a Trainer, after all, had been her dream, too.

But, the one thing that Jane's parents—and that Jane herself didn't even know—

Was that _it still was_.


End file.
